BIRMINGHAM, Alabama - Howard Johnson's friends in high school knew that he was a hard worker, likely to succeed. He wore a suit and tie to school every day, and as soon as he got his driver's license he was hired to drive the school bus.Johnson had a helping hand getting into business, from the best-known black businessman in Birmingham, the legendary A.G. Gaston, who owned funeral homes, a motel, an insurance company and a bank.Johnson, owner of Johnson Memorial Funeral Directors in Bessemer, died on Aug. 12. He was 87."He was the epitome of a businessman," said Charles Steele, national president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, a longtime friend of Johnson. "He was always there to help if you needed help."Johnson learned the funeral business in high school when he was recruited by Gaston."He started in 1944," said Johnson's son, Howard G. Johnson, general manager of Johnson Memorial, who noted that his father never had a middle name. "He was in 12th grade at Rosedale High School in Homewood, at the height of World War II. There was a shortage of workers because of the war. A.G. Gaston asked the principal if he had any young men who would be good workers. My dad was selected as one."Nathaniel Adams, 87, grew up with Johnson in the Sand Ridge community of Oxmoor Valley. When Johnson turned 16, the county hired him as the school bus driver for Oxmoor Valley, Adams said. "I don't know how he learned how to drive; they didn't even have a car," Adams said. "After he let all the kids off the bus, he taught me how to drive. The last two years he was in high school he drove the school bus."Johnson also wore a suit and tie to high school every day, Adams said. "He was the most dignified kid in there," Adams said. "Howard was a serious kid growing up. He stood out like a sore thumb."Adams and Johnson were both drafted into the Army at 18, and when Johnson got out, he began writing congressmen to get help running water lines to the Oxmoor Valley, Adams said. "Sand Ridge didn't have nothing but well water," Adams said. "The wells would get low and run out of water. He was instrumental in getting water into that community." U.S. Sen. John Sparkman responded to Johnson's letters and helped push to get the water lines installed, Adams said. "Howard was the out-front spokesman."Though he would work for Gaston for 22 years, that was interrupted as he served in the Army Air Corps during World War II. "He went into the service and was stationed at Tuskegee," Johnson said. "He was ground support for the Tuskegee Airmen."Back at Smith & Gaston Funeral Home near Kelly Ingram Park after the war, Johnson was groomed as a manager by Gaston. Gaston sent Johnson in 1952 to manage the Bessemer branch of Smith & Gaston. He and his wife, Odessa, took over ownership in 1967. "Dr. Gaston sold him the Bessemer funeral home," Johnson said. "He gave him his start. Dr. Gaston sold all his funeral homes to his managers. My dad was the last living manager."Johnson learned the basics of business from Gaston. "He just demanded honesty and integrity from his employees," the younger Johnson said. "That was the main thing."When he bought the business from Gaston, taking over the Smith & Gaston Building at 2531 Ninth Ave. North in Bessemer, Johnson had a 1962 Cadillac Superior Funeral Coach, a 1955 S&S Cadillac Funeral Coach, a 1962 Cadillac de Ville sedan and a 1963 Ford Ambulance."The funeral home, before EMTs (emergency medical technicians) and modern regulations, used to be the ambulance service," Johnson said. "Most of the funeral homes had an ambulance as well. People would call and say, 'Hey, we need you to carry us from the house to Hillman Hospital.'"During the 1970s, regulations phased out funeral homes as ambulance services. "When my dad started in funeral service, a typical day included waking up early, cutting grass, washing cars, attending a funeral, making an ambulance run, picking up a family," Johnson said. "What's got to be done has got to be done. My mom was a schoolteacher. He was the one at the funeral home every day. I've been around it all my life. I started following my dad around when I was three. A guy who has a dad that's worth his salt, he wants to be just like him, and that was me. He retired a few years ago, but he was still around regularly."Johnson had a passion for the past, preserving the history of black-owned funeral homes, a foundation of black entrepreneurship during segregation. "In the early 1990s, he started chronicling the history of black-owned funeral homes in Alabama," Johnson said. "He amassed an archive. He worked on that collection for 20 years. It's now in the archives at Alabama State University in Montgomery."Johnson graduated from Booker T. Washington Business College and earned credentials as a funeral director and mortician from Jefferson State Community College. "In the 1960s, people would come to him to help them obtain birth certificates or Social Security numbers, and he would help them," Johnson said. "Blacks had been treated as second-class citizens. We were behind the game. He had more education than the average person. He helped people get established."In 1963, while his boss, Gaston, openly financed and supported the civil rights movement and was targeted for Ku Klux Klan bombings at the Gaston Motel where the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. stayed and at his home, Johnson kept the Bessemer branch running smoothly. "He always tried to remain calm and not make a lot of waves," Johnson said. "He's always been soft-spoken."Johnson was a member and trustee of St. Matthew AME Church. "He was highly respected," said the Rev. Myers Hawkins, 81, retired district superintendent in the African Methodist Episcopal Church, and A.G. Gaston's former pastor at St. Paul AME in Fairfield. Hawkins said Johnson was very much like Gaston. "He was solid. He was quiet but very firm."Johnson served on community boards in Bessemer and raised money for Abrams High School, which lacked necessary funding. "He worked for their boosters club, even though he didn't have a child there," said his son, who attended Jess Lanier High School."He taught us about love," said one of his two daughters, Cassandra Johnson. "He loved my mother dearly. He taught us that by example." Johnson and his widow, Odessa, were married for 54 years. "He always put her first," Cassandra said. "He loved his church. He taught us early on about faith. He taught me about Jesus. He had a love for reading. He was a walking encyclopedia. When he met people he'd ask what day they were born. He could tell you what happened the day you were born, which was amazing. He taught us about integrity and work ethic. He'd say, 'You can't make any money lying in the bed all day.' He took me at nine years old and started explaining ledgers and filing. He was a very humble person, always willing to help however he could help someone. He had a sense of humor. He was just funny."In 1997, Johnson Memorial built a new funeral home, across the street from the old building. "He was really proud of that," the younger Johnson said. He was also proud of treating families with respect and soothing people in times of crisis. "He was a concerned, caring gentleman," Johnson said of his father."He knew that he was called to serve and he was called to serve in that capacity," Cassandra Johnson said.